Many of the captives were mere boys, poor conscripts, who only a month before had been compelled to resign the shovel for the musquet; and some were the old and high-spirited soldiers of the Emperor,—stern fellows, with bronzed and scarred cheeks, rough moustaches, and mouths black with the cartridges they had bitten. They looked around them with an air of haughty pride, defiance, and nonchalance, which only a Frenchman can assume under such circumstances. When daylight dawned, Blacier was found lying dead. When last seen alive, he was sitting philosophically watching the pool formed by his blood; and thus he expired with his pipe in his mouth, an inveterate smoker to the last.
"Keep order among the prisoners!" cried Stuart, on the occasion of a brawl ensuing between them and the Spaniards. "Your fellows must restrain their national animosity,—just now, at least," added he firmly, to the Spanish lieutenant commanding the escort.
"Bueno! but how am I to do it? See you, senor," said the Spaniard, "how the Frenchmen spit upon and upbraid them, as if they were so many Moors or Portuguese? Virgin del Pilar! I would hew them down to ribbons, but for the contrary order of senor the great Capitan Général,—the Duke of Vittoria."[*]
[*] Wellington's Spanish title.
"Stay, senor," said Stuart; "one should treat with generosity a conquered enemy."
"On my honour, capitan," replied the other, "old Cuesta would have had them all swimming down the Nive, had he commanded here."
"Holloa, Stuart!" cried Macpherson; "come this way! Here is another uproar. Never mind the prisoners; one might as well sing psalms to a dead horse, as speak of generosity to a Spaniard."
Their attention was arrested by the report of a musquet; and hurrying to where the sound came from, they found several Highlanders engaged in beating down the door of a turret. This operation Iverach shortened, by applying his musquet and blowing the lock to pieces,—a perilous exploit for the inmate, who narrowly escaped being shot through the body. Evan next applied his shoulder to the shattered barrier, and burst it open.
"Maister Lisle o' the Inch-house! Hurrah! How happy I am to see you. Od, this dings a'! he exclaimed in breathless astonishment, as Lisle issued from his place of confinement.
"Ha! Louis," cried Stuart, grasping his hand in wonder. "Is it possible that they treat you in this unworthy manner, caging you up in a place like a dog-kennel? I thought you were enjoying yourself on parole in France?"